


maybe black and blue are your colours

by vulcanistics



Category: Football RPF, German NT RPF
Genre: 1. FC Köln, Arsenal FC, Bayern München, Footy Ficathon, Inter Milan, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3133568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcanistics/pseuds/vulcanistics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are twenty-nine years old and you're starting all over again. You are no longer Lukas Podolski, an Arsenal player. You are Lukas Podolski, an FC Internazionale Milano player. This is Italy - the land of sunshine, sea, history, emotion, la dolce vita. You are in the land of the Azzurri.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe black and blue are your colours

**Author's Note:**

> i filled my own [prompt](http://thesilverwitch.livejournal.com/33981.html?thread=899517#t899517)  
> \- this fic basically deals with lukas' move to inter milan and it's also looking back at his past clubs and the experiences he had there. colours play a pretty important part in this fic. there isn't a lot of schweinski. lukas-centric fic.  
> \- so grateful to [farrah](http://moderncouchpotato.tumblr.com) and [rose-marie](http://rosesgreen23.tumblr.com) for having the patience to deal with me and for reading this as it developed and grew and took shape.  
> \- i should have been studying for my mock exams but this was begging to be written, my other fic will be updated once i'm done with my finals.  
> \- i hope you guys like this.
> 
>  
> 
> **disclaimer: this is pure fiction dealing with fictional representations of real people. none of the events described here happened.**

•○•

 

You are twenty-nine years old and you're starting all over again. You are no longer Lukas Podolski, an Arsenal player. You are Lukas Podolski, an FC Internazionale Milano player. This is Italy - the land of sunshine, sea, history, emotion, la dolce vita. You are in the land of the Azzurri.

The scarf you're wearing is blue and black. It makes you think of Brazil,  when you were heroes - gods among men. It reminds you of those quiet nights in Brazil, sitting by the pool with Bastian, watching the brilliant blue sky turn into pink and red and orange and purple

                 and then it's black.

You brandish the scarf with pride, this is your new love. This is Inter Milan. The scarf keeps you warm as you're swarmed by fans. You say Forza Inter and you mean it.

You won't be wearing red for the first time in a long time.

 

(This is a memory:

You are standing on your feet and the crowds are chanting your name - you are their hero, their son. You are a teenager and 1. FC Köln is your home. You are young and romantic and you tell yourself that this will always be your home.

You wear the red and white jersey with pride and joy. You are on the brink of being twenty and the red reminds you of the exhilaration of getting your first international cap. You are a force,

a furious storm of _red_ and white and soul.

You carry the weight of expectations on your shoulders. You are Cologne's promise, their star, their wunderkind - their gift to the country. You were born in Poland but you are a child of Cologne. You went for Sunday mass in the Cologne cathedral. They love you.

You leave.)

 

•○•

 

You stand with Roberto Mancini and gaze up at San Siro. You are going to be part of the Nerazzurri. You think of Bastian who is in Australia with his new girlfriend. You bought him a scarf. It's black and blue and you know that Bastian will love it despite the colour. It's your team and he loves you. You don't understand what he's doing with Ana. He  calls you up and tells you that it's for his image, it's a ploy by his management. He tells you he loves you. There is a sharp pain in your heart as you look at pictures of Bastian and Ana - they look like they're in love. You tell yourself it's not real -

                                                                    it is not _real_.

Bastian will love the scarf. You know that he will wear it at home, when it's just the two of you. He'll store it in a special section of his closet - it's a space reserved for you;  scarves, jerseys and memorabilia of 1. FC Köln, Bayern Munich, Arsenal and now, Inter Milan. It's blue against a sea of red.

Bastian's kept some of your jerseys from your time at Bayern Munich. Sometimes you catch him glancing at them with a sad look in his eyes. He never looks at them for too long if you're around. You know he misses you. The ache of not seeing each other at training every day faded but never went away.

You've moved so much. You've packed up your bags and shifted between cities and countries. You take in the culture, the language, the people - you adapt to the changes you see around you. You've crossed endless borders - long lines running across the globe. Bastian's a constant amidst the change.

 

(This is a memory:

Bayern Munich wants you. You stare at yourself in the mirror when you wear the jersey for the first time. You left Cologne for Bayern Munich. Playing with Bastian in Bayern is exhilarating, it's everything you thought it would be. You don't realise it then but you said yes to Bayern's offer because of your best friend. You wanted more than international breaks, more than occasional matches against each other.

You think you're invincible but you are not. You don't realise it at first, but you're spending match after match on the bench. Bastian looks at you and he's angry. Miroslav looks at you and he's apologetic but this is not his fault. Bayern's red and white jersey weighs you down. You wear it and it feels as though you're drowning in a sea of frustration, disappointment and hurt. You can't take it and so, you leave.

You leave too soon.

You came as the young _future_ of Germany, you left as a father. 

You left and ripped out a part of the man wearing the number 31 on his back.

It hurts to go but you have to. Bastian's devastated and you hold him as he sobs and tells you he loves you. Suddenly, the red and white of Bayern Munich symbolise promise, hope and a future.

You're leaving a huge club but something even greater is beginning.)

 

•○•

You call your national team coach up as soon as you sign your contract with Inter Milan. He was the first to know that you're thinking of transferring away from Arsenal. And now, he's the first person to know that yes, you're officially an Inter Milan player.

Joachim Löw sounds so relieved when you break the news to him. You know he worries about you, you know that he trusts you and wants what's best for you. He's a father to you. Bastian teases you about it sometimes, tells you that you have a mini-family within the Die Mannschaft family. He's not wrong.

When you told Jogi about your possible move away from Arsenal, he said bitterly that anything might be better than Arsenal. You spoke up in defense of your club. Once a Gunner, always a Gunner. He laughed and sighed and you knew that he was shaking his head. He told you that you have a heart too big, a soul too pure.

You have always _loved_ too much.

 

(This is  a memory:

You go back to Cologne and you are the prodigal son. 1. FC Köln's red and white jersey is comfort and belonging. They took you back with open arms - they fought for you. You're still their Prinz Poldi.

A little girl comes up to you and tells you that you are her inspiration. She's wearing your jersey. You are her hero. You are flawed and broken. You are a history, a tragedy, a summer fairy tale - a hallelujah. You are rising and you are standing at the beginning.

You relish in the familiarity of it all. Jogi told you that going back to Cologne won't affect your chances of being called up. You're glad.

You leave again and this time you put an ocean between Germany and you. Bastian comes over to your place before you leave and tells you that he loves you. He has said that to you so many time before but you needed them at that moment. You take his words and inscribe them into your heart, turning them over in your mind as you board the plane to London.

You take his words with you -

carrying them in your _heart_.)

•○•

 

When they ask you to choose a jersey number, you unhesitatingly pick number 11. You look at the two parallel lines and you remember the fiery red and lethal white of Bayern Munich. You think about the fact that on 6th June, 2015, it will be eleven years since you made your debut with the national team - a debut you made with _Bastian_ Schweinsteiger.

You think of Miroslav Klose. Miro had phoned you when he heard the rumours about Inter Milan. He spoke to you about Italian football. He didn't ask you to come to Lazio, he didn't ask you whether the rumours were true. No, he told you exactly what you needed to hear. He told you that Italy would be good for you. You listened to him. Hearing  Miroslav talk about Italy in the language of your home country helped you make up your mind. You were going to go to Italy. Lazio has helped him and you hope Inter Milan will do the same for you.

Miro is one of your closest friends and so, you believe him when he says that you will love Italy. He's a friendly soul, a familiar face in a country that is still foreign to you. Miroslav isn't being played very often at Lazio but there's a certain quiet contentment in his voice as he welcomes you to Italy. He's happy wearing Lazio's light blue jersey. You wear blue and black - 11 is written across your back.

Neither of you wear red.

 

(This is a memory:

Arsenal is a club after your own heart. You feel loved there and you watch with pride as you hear the fans singing for you. You scream and dance and fight - you score. They tell you they love you and you are quick to reply, you love them too. The team tells you that you bring sunshine into the locker room. Arsenal is one of the best things to happen to you.

You don't know where things go wrong but you're suddenly on the bench and your team is winning and losing without you. You watch from the sidelines, rush in when 82 minutes have already been played, you give it your all. You're back on the bench. You think that maybe Wenger is just trying out other formations, other players. You can only watch helplessly as he continues to overlook you.

You hate that you're reminded of your time at Bayern Munich. You know that Wenger doesn't trust you but you don't understand why. You love the club but wearing the jersey wears your soul out.The white and red jersey makes you think of hearts and bones - broken and mended, beating and moving. You're hurting so bad. You need to play.

You hear the comments and you read the reports. You are Arsenal's forgotten man, a former hero of the German National Team. You're a World Cup winner and you're still on the bench.

You need to leave the club you love.

You're going to Italy. You hug your teammates, the team staff, the club manager and say good _bye_ and good luck. Your last words to them are -

once a _Gunner_ , always a Gunner.

Maybe you will come back to them or maybe you won't, but leaving was the right thing to do.)

•○•

You play your first match for Inter Milan and it's against Juventus. You come off the bench during the second half and this is your first Serie A match, they call Mancini's decision to put you on a stroke of genius. The blades of grass feel familiar beneath your feet and you're soaring. The giddy, light-headed feeling threatens to overwhelm you - you can't believe you've already got a chance to play.

It's a draw but you're satisfied with it. You played and it was exhilarating and fun. You smile at Roberto Mancini as you walk through the tunnel, thank you.

Three people phone you after the match to tell you that they saw you play, to tell you that you were amazing - Jogi, Miro and Bastian. Bastian laughs as he says, maybe black and blue are your colours. He's so proud of you.

You think that maybe you'll always be tied to red and white.

 

(This is a memory that is a few days old:

You hold up Inter Milan's away jersey and smile. The red Nike swoosh and the Pirelli logo stand out against a white background.

It's a bittersweet reminder of the past. The red and white is a story of the mountains you've crossed, skies you've sailed, friends you've made, people you've loved. It makes you think of how important and how influential your clubs have been. It's connecting you to the past.

You send Bastian a picture of the away jersey and add a caption that reads -

Red and white is love and hope and memories.

It's _forever_.)

 

****  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> please do leave me a comment :)  
> you can also find me on tumblr as [normalplaces](http://normalplaces.tumblr.com)


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